


A Spinning Lesson

by Chris Fitzner (chrisfitzner)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisfitzner/pseuds/Chris%20Fitzner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas gift fic to my beautiful and inspirational friend and synchronista, Lori Fitzgerald.  The spinning wheel stool and the naughty things one could do on it has been a running joke for months now; my brain just had to write it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spinning Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lori Fitzgerald](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lori+Fitzgerald).



_“I’m sorry I can’t be home for your birthday.”_ The line crackled and popped; where had he called from, the bottom of a mine shaft?  _“I promise I will make it up to you, babe.”_ The phone went silent when the voice mail ended and Lorelei was back in her cozy living room, surrounded by photographs of family and of the husband she never saw.

“He always misses my birthday.” She muttered, throwing the phone onto the couch.  “ _Always_.”  They had made plans, _nice_ plans; go to a nice dinner, maybe see a movie, finish off with a nightcap at Granny’s Diner and then – well, whatever it was husbands and wives do after a nice night out though Tim had been away so frequently, Lorelei had forgotten what that was.  She could hardly believe it when he’d called last Sunday to tell her he would be home and that it would be all about her; to make up for all of the other birthdays he had missed.

She should have known it was too good to be true.

“At this rate, he owes me a fancy night in Boston.” Lorelei dropped into an overstuffed chair, her short skirt ballooning around her a little.

Tim worked hard for them, to give them a comfortable life; but his bosses were based out of Boston and Tim would not move them to the big city.  He liked Maine and the incredibly quiet town of Storybrooke.  ‘A nice place to raise a family’ he had told Lorelei.  But they didn’t _have_ a family; they couldn’t have one.  She couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen Tim.  Lorelei gazed absently at the cheerful white curtains, framing the perfect spider ferns in the front window. 

“Time to stop moping here alone, that’s for sure.” Lorelei hopped up, wobbling slightly on the thin heels of the strappy black shoes she had bought special for tonight.  They went perfectly with her black skirt and strapless black and green top.  She grabbed her clutch from the top of the piano and threw a light jacket on, touching up her lipstick as she went by the mirror in the hallway.  Her black hair shone and her green eyes flashed with mischief and Lorelei gave herself a little wink before sweeping out the door into the damp autumn night.

The streets of Storybrooke were deserted, most people were home having dinner with their families.  Lorelei ground the tip of her heel into a loose bit of sidewalk.  She couldn’t have one for reasons even Dr. Whale couldn’t explain.  It could have been Tim, but he had blown her off and told her that he was too busy to get tested too.

Block after block of quiet darkness lined with happy homes; she had no idea where she was going.  Storybrooke was hardly the apogee of hip, hot nightlife.  “All dressed up and nowhere to go.  Again.”  Lorelei veered away from the main streets and clomped through the deserted alleyways that would bring her near the edge of town.  Her shoes, though adorable, pinched at her toes and bit sharply into her heels. “They’re not meant for walkin’.” She snickered before stumbling on a bit of uneven pavement, narrowly avoiding turning her ankle.  Even if she had a car of her own, she hadn’t driven since the incident at the cannery.

“It’s not my fault no one told me the job involved fish.” Lorelei told a dumpster as she continued on her way.  It was a great job, Tim promised her, long hours but good pay and maybe she would make some friends.  But Lorelei had a thing for the ocean; her husband didn’t know her at all.  Now, she was comfortably installed at the local pet shop as their fish and reptile expert and her days there passed without trouble.

Lorelei emerged from the alley next to Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop and lingered near the shop window before going in.  It looked deserted inside and she couldn’t see Mr. Gold but there were so many items near the window that it could hide him well. She enjoyed the pawn shop and spent more than a few of her lunch hours browsing its dusty shelves.  It hadn’t been a place she normally shopped at, the only reason she went in the first time was because she thought it had been a prawn shop.  The proprietor was a prickly man who walked with a pronounced limp and a cane but he was always civil to Lorelei and always impeccably dressed.  He never seemed to mind that she never bought anything or that she sometimes smelled like fish food.  A quick browse then and perhaps a chat before she headed down to Granny’s for a drink and a flirt.

Deserted at most times of the day, tonight was no different and the small bell above the door could have been a gong going off in the quiet shop.  Mr. Gold was absent from his usual place near the register.

“Hello?” she called softly, wondering for a second if the shop was even open.  Maybe Mr. Gold had forgotten to lock up; she doubted that.  Glass unicorns shone dully in the dusty light as she passed by the now familiar windmill and frightening pair of puppets on her way to the jewellery case.  A faint creaking and whirring noise came from the back room; so Gold _was_ in.

Pendants of tarnished silver, dented and well-loved rested on velvet lined shelves next to oxidized torques, necklaces of feathers and beads, teeth and some bone.  It was seashells that Lorelei had come for and she found them tucked into a corner, almost lost among the bric-a-brac.  On a thick black cord hung an off white nautilus shell; Lorelei’s eyes grew wide and her heart constricted in her chest; the sea was singing in her ears.

_Sad and haunting melodies drifted across the crashing surf.  The rocks were slick and cold, the ocean white, gray, angry.  Seaweed dripped from her black hair, long and covering her pale breasts.  A red dawn bled across the eastern horizon and exultant for the storm to come, she raised her voice to join the songs of her sisters._

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Mr. Gold’s quiet voice came from next to her.  Lorelei’s eyes flew open and blood rushed into her face; she hadn’t meant to daydream.  Mute with embarrassment, Lorelei pointed to the shell in the case.  Mr. Gold had already shuffled around the counter and unlocked the case in one smooth motion.  He offered the pendant, the nautilus dangled from his outstretched hand.  Gull cries filled her ears as she took the pendant and she was entranced, tenderly stroking the smooth shell. 

Mr. Gold gently took it from Lorelei and moved behind her, fastening the cord around her neck.  The shell was warm against her skin and pulsed in time with her own heartbeat like it had always been a part of her.

“Have you made a selection then?” Mr. Gold tactfully broke the silence; Lorelei nodded, following him to the cash register.  “It’s a bit chilly this evening.” He gave her the once over, handing her credit card back. “Hot date?”

“He stood me up.” And she launched into a mini tirade about her husband always missing her birthday, among all the other holidays.

Mr. Gold _tsked_. “What a fool.”

“Yes, well, thank you.” It was time for Lorelei to move on for that drink. _Many drinks_.  The curtain to the backroom was pinned back for the first time she had ever noticed.  Lorelei glanced back there, unable to help her curiosity.  A spinning wheel stood in the center of the room; large and beautifully made, Lorelei couldn’t help staring.  She’d never seen a spinning wheel before, aside from pictures.

“Would you like a closer look?” he asked her from the doorway, looking every inch the gentleman leaning against his cane in a dark well-tailored suit.  If only Tim looked so nice in his business suits; what did Tim even look like?  Lorelei followed him into the back, lightly touching the smooth wood of the wheel and fluff of raw wool.

“I can’t believe you know how to spin.” Lorelei couldn’t keep the awe from her voice as she absently shrugged out of her jacket.

“I know many odd things, dearie.  Have you never seen a wheel before?” Gold smirked, sitting down to spin.

“Only in pictures.” Lorelei admitted. “If it doesn’t have fins or flippers, I don’t seem to know much.”  Silence fell as she watched the wheel and Gold’s long, graceful fingers pull the wool.  She imagined what it would be like to feel those fingers in her hair and then grimaced, remembering her husband.

“You’re unhappy.” It was not a question.

“I’m fine.” She lied. “Well, only lonely.  Tim works a lot.”

“When was the last time you saw your husband?” his voice was mellow and somewhat distracted and the rigidity with which he had always held himself seemed to melt away.

“I don’t remember – why do you spin?” Lorelei needed to change the subject; she did _not_ want to think about Tim.

“It’s relaxing.  It helps me to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“I don’t remember.” A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Would you like to try?”  He stood, freeing the seat for Lorelei.

“Oh, I haven’t the first clue.”

“I’m a very good teacher.” Gold guided her to the stool and gently pushed her down. “I’ll guide you.”  His hands lightly skimmed her bare arms, setting her skin to tingling.  His voice was soft but firm as he talked her through from behind the stool while she slowly worked the wheel.  A warm ache began to spread throughout her belly as his lips grazed her bare shoulders and nibbled at her neck; he buried his face in her silken hair, inhaling deeply. “You remind me of a clean ocean breeze.” Gold murmured into her ear and her hands shook. “Here, let me help you.”

He helped her to her feet and settled himself onto the stool, drawing her onto his lap.  Lorelei’s heart thumped wildly in her chest; could he feel it, pressed as closely as they were?  She smiled when she realized she was spinning on her own, Mr. Gold’s hands rested lightly on her narrow waist.  It had been too long since she had been intimate with Tim; the spinner’s hands were on her thighs now, warming her bare and chilly skin. _Who’s Tim? Oh – right._

“Hm?” Lorelei was too distracted and her self-control was quickly slipping away.  Gold took the thread from her hands and let it drop; he turned her sideways, slipping an arm around her waist for support.  His brown eyes appeared almost black in the dim light.  Lorelei laid her cheek upon the top of his head and gave in to his touch.

The shop was silent save for their heavy breathing and the rustle of fabric as he slid his free hand up Lorelei’s shirt, cupping each breast for a moment, rubbing them through the lacy fabric of her bra.  She shuddered and his hand fell away, lightly tracing patterns on her skin, moving slowly southward.  _Get a grip, Lorelei.  You can stop this_.

“Mr. Gold?” her voice trembled, not at all how she wanted to sound.  His lips were pressed against her neck, his hand at the apex of her thighs, rubbing her through her panties.  A moan escaped her lips and he pushed the cloth out of the way, dipping into her damp curls to find the sensitive bud within.  Lorelei whimpered, trying to squirm away from him but he only tightened his grip around her waist and persisted in teasing her.  The muscles in her abdomen began to clench and heat rushed through her as she threw her head back, crying out.  Mr. Gold’s fingers withdrew and her body twitched, over sensitive and tingling.

“Yes, dearie?” he finally answered, sounding somewhat breathless himself.

Lorelei got to her feet, swaying a little in her heels from shaky legs.  She grabbed her jacket and turned to go. “I’ll show myself out.”


End file.
